17th winter
by Kerona-and-lime
Summary: eh there is really no explination for this except i wanted to write about the south park boys and i had this idea in my head for along time. Ever since me and a friend started joking about how Cartman would be the next hitler this happened. Enjoy!


"It's hard to believe there is a world that's not at war outside of these city walls. I wish we could see it." The boy with jet black hair stared blankly out at the bleak world. Snow fell in huge soft flakes collecting in drifts on the window sill. Small twisters of snow danced under the light of the streetlamp. IT would be hard to tell there country was at warfare; right now it was quiet peaceful. The other boy in the room looked up from making his cot for the third time; as if it would make it more comfortable. His red bangs flew in front of his eyes, blocking his vision.

"Ask Santa for Christmas." He teased lightly, trying to cheer up his friend. He brushed his hair out of his eyes just in time to see the black haired boy shoot him a look, probably imagining burning a hole through the others heart. He stiffened a shudder and went back to arranging the sheets. "I was just kidding." He muttered feeling the others gaze on his back.

"I'm serious Kyle; I want to get out of here. Buts it's impossible to step out of this place with out getting shot." Kyle looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye. "Stan?" He was scrunched up on the large window sill, head down and eyes covered by his locks. The foggy glass had random lines drawn by Stan's finger. Lines that weren't part of anything; lost lines that had no were to go. Just like they were. When the boy didn't answer, Kyle walked over to him: the old hardwood floor squeaking under his weight. Which just goes to show how old the floor is since both the boys were very light.

"I hate it when you get like this." Kyle frowned as he leaned up against the wall to the left of the window. "It's the weather." Stan mumbled. Sighing, Kyle slid his back down the wall so that he was level with Stan's shoulder. "You're damping the Christmas spirit!" A small smile graced Stan's lips.

"You're Jewish Kyle."

"Yea…but still." He blushed as the other laughed. After a good laughing fit Stan leaned up against the window; face flushed and still smiling. His gaze settled on the disgruntled redhead. "Sorry Kyle. But that was funny."

"I don't see how that was funny. But at least you're not so depressing anymore." Kyle sighed then smiled. 'I'm gunna go to bed." He peeled himself off the floor and wandered of to his newly made cot and tossed the sheets back. Wincing as he went under the covers fully clothed; so he wasn't as cold and couldn't feel the distortions in the mattress as much. A Stupid spring had jabbed into his side hitting his bruised rib causing him to let out a small groan. Stan whipped his head around from the window; he had been watching some movement on the street. "Still hurts?" He asked raising a concerned eyebrow. Kyle nodded as he let his head hit the dusty pillow with a thud.

"Are you sure it's just bruised?" Stan frowned in worry. Kyle nodded a second time. "Do you need anything?" No answer. Stan sighed and decided that he was either ignoring him or he had fallen asleep. The first option was more likely. Turning back to the window Stan noticed that the scene had changed a little bit since he had looked away.

"Hmmm." Stan let out a small murmur of wonder as he continued watching the commotion under one of the near by street lamps. A group of 5 or so people stood huddled under the dim glow of the lamp; one person seemed to be in command as they stood out a little bit from the crowd. They stood in a semi circle perfectly still, but the slight air of tension seemed to have built up around them. The leader, apparently blond, titled his head up towards the window and a faint smile played across his lips making Stan's heart do a double take. From what he knew they couldn't see inside the house, but what if they could? Stan stood stalk still telling himself that it was just his mind playing tricks on him, that the blond had just looked up to examine the falling snowflakes. A few minutes passed and Stan was still panicked, heart pounding widely. The people had shifted their position but had not gone away. Stan wished deeply they would, it would give him some closer and a chance to get the cramp out of his leg. Looking out of the corner of his eye and being careful not to move his head, Stan took one more wary glance at the blond. He was wearing a bright orange jacket and his hands were stuffed into the fur lined pockets of it. He was leaning leisurely against the lamp post as if the threat of being shot meant nothing to him. A lopsided, playful grin graced his face; if Stan could see his eyes he bet they would have that same mischievous flare. The blonds face was turned away from the window so Stan figured he could drop safely to the floor: the others' backs where turned to him so they caused no threat. In one swift motion he dropped from the window too the floor causing a puff of dust to erupt in one big smoky cloud. Coughing but feeling slightly less exposed, Stan rolled to his still unmade cot and climbed in; just as the blond in the orange coat took one last look at the window Stan was just in and strolled off into the night, followers at his heels.

* * * * *

Swirls of snow kicked up and licked the flushed cheek of the mischievous looking boy. Shocks of sandy blond hair fell into startling, seductive blue eyes giving the boy a mysterious streak. The blonds' pale mouth was pulled up into a lopsided smirk as if he was smiling at something only he knew and though funny. He stood relaxed against the black pole of a street lamp which cast its orange glow on him and the five people who stood looking stiff and unsure around him. The blond was their leader and they were waiting to see what he had called them for and at this specific destination. Another blond twitched slightly and cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"Ummm, Kenny, Sir?" The leader came back from his seemingly peaceful daydream and back to the cold harsh reality they were in, yet the smile never left his face. He moved away from the pole and stood fully upright, drawing himself to his full height.

"Yes, Tweek?" Kenny murmured. They kept their voices low; the realty of enemies hearing was all too real.

"You called us out here, what for?" Tweek fidgeted with the buttons of his pale blue coat, his brown eyes darting to the ground; he couldn't meet the others gaze for the life of him. The Blond, blue eyed leaders' smile grew as if he was about to give away something great.

"I found them." His voice barely exceeded a whisper, but his excitement was unmistakeable, it had taken forever. A few shocked gasps erupted from the small group of people. One of them, a brunette, spoke up with a thick French accent.

"Well that's all very good but, how are we going to get them? The chances of them letting us in willingly are slim." He shifted in his leather jacket and let smoke blow out through his nose. "If we break in…the chance of them having defence of some sort is pretty high. They could attack us before we prove ourselves." He murmured, glancing over his shoulder and taking another drag of his cigarette. Kenny smiled again taking in the others point.

"True, but we will have to try, won't we?" he leaned back against the pole, tuning his face towards the uppermost window of the old house in front of them. They were in there, he had proven it. That was only half the challenge. Now they had to get them to come with them willingly. Then the rebels might stand a chance.

"Christophe is right. What if they attack us before we prove ourselves?" Tweek spoke up again looking more uncomfortable then before. Kenny brought his gaze down from the window and onto the small blond before him.

"Then at least we will know we tried." He muttered. Silence overflowed the group before Kenny coughed and announced:

"Tomorrow. We get them. Till then we will continue planning." Everyone nodded silently as Kenny took one last determined glance at the window then the group slipped out of the orange light and into the darkness that surrounded , the wind erasing their tracks.


End file.
